Everyday life in a rickety old French farmhouse with two very lively Polish Lowland Sheepdogs.
A record of those little things too unimportant for a diary but too important to be forgotten.

Monday, August 29, 2016

World changing.

The day dawns grey and overcast. On humid mornings like this the PONs take up position on their garden table 'roost'. The tables slats allow air to circulate freely to those parts that air needs to circulate to. They watch as I clean the pool. Bob watches in silence. Sophie lends noisy encouragement.

Off in the car to the market town. Below the cathedral we notice that someone is modernizing an attic flat. The modern window and the removal of the old shutters a hint that this is not going to be a 'sensitive' restoration.

At the bakers much discussion as to where you could find pastries like these in the US. Lake Shore Drive and Central Park South are mentioned. Angus is surprised to learn that inhabitants of Austin consider it to be more sophisticated than Dallas or Houston.

Bile. There could be a better name for this wine displayed in a local grocers window. It causes much amusement.

In the greengrocers it's now pumpkin season. Last week there were none.

This week we count a dozen varieties. The Americans are keen on pumpkin pie but admit that the only variety they know is the one that comes out of a can.

We find signs of some mite bites on Sophie's front paws. She gets given a bath with medicated shampoo. Bob, who is next in line to be bathed, disappears. Bob has learnt that if enough time passes between the bath being run and being caught then the chances of having to face this ordeal diminishes. It works. After twenty minutes of searching in vain we give up. He reappears. No worries. Bob is mite free.

7 comments:

The perplexing thing is that bile means the same things in French: digestive juices and, figuratively, irascibility. How can that sell wine? Drink it and you'll be in a foul mood? Tell the Americans that the "right" pumpkin is butternut squash. Not easy to turn one into purée of the pie consistency.I had the honor to meet Dr. Henderson when I was an aid worker in Africa. Three decades later, I still remember it.

The gall of you all - laughing at Bile wine!Those cakes look yummy - weekend treats?Kitty empathises with Bob...although unlucky for her, our house and garden isn't large enough for disappearing at bathtime.

Perhaps Bile is meant to be given to people with a similar disposition?Oh Bob, come on, be a man, a bath never hurt anyone, and you'll feel so much better ! In this hot weather we shower our girls outdoors, using the fine spray on the garden hose. They don't seem to mind, but then they are Labs !

Often I give thanks for scientists, doctors, firefighters and policemen. Without these brave people where would we be? Thank you for sending on the inspirational story about the wonderful Donald Henderson's work to save humanity from a dreaded disease.

About Me

2004, we sell the rain drenched farm in Scotland and move to the warmth of southern Europe. Two very lively Polish Lowland Sheepdog brothers - Wilf and Digby - accompany us. Fluffy,patient and comical . Forever attracting laughter and new friends . After a year in Provence we moved to Italy to restore an ancient Roman watchtower . Somethings are meant not to be. Following a rather unpleasantly violent 'housejacking' ( the third in our little village ) we left Italy in late 2009 for new adventures in the rolling countryside of south west France . We are now getting to grips with a large rickety old farmhouse. Life after the violence of Italy has a gentler tempo. Digby passed on from piroplasmosis in May 2010. HIs brother, despite being diagnosed with cancer and having become blind ,soldiered on for another two years. We now embark on the next part of our journey with two new PON's - Bob and Sophie. This blog records all those little things about living with dogs that are too unimportant to make it into a diary but which make life, life.